


It's All Fine

by madelinecookie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Drama, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Top John Watson, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:04:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9312824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinecookie/pseuds/madelinecookie
Summary: "It's all Fine." The moment the words came from his mouth John Watson knew that he wasn't as unattached as he thought.An interpretation of the love story between John Watson and Sherlock Holmes through the beautiful words of Adele.





	1. Remedy (ASiP)

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a Johnlock fiction.
> 
> I am always looking for feedback and comments.

When the pain cuts you deep  
When the night keeps you from sleeping  
Just look and you will see  
That I will be your remedy  
When the world seems so cruel  
And your heart makes you feel like a fool  
I promise you will see  
That I will be, I will be your remedy  
\- Adele 

John Watson was breathing heavily, his forehead resting against the cool shower wall as hot water cascaded down his broken body. His eyes were closed tightly, his brows pulled together and creased as though he were frowning, and he felt the phantom pain of his limp in his leg. Of course, now he knew that it wasn’t a real limp. 

He was having his first shower as a resident of 221B Baker Street in London. Outside the door, only meters away, was Sherlock Holmes. John wondered idly what his flat mate was doing. Maybe mixing chemicals on the kitchen table or sitting in his chair by the fire, his fingers steepled as he lost himself in his thoughts? 

John didn’t want to think to extensively about Sherlock, especially as he tried to unwind in the shower, but the last two days were catching up to him. Had it only been a few days ago that he wrote on his blog, “Nothing happens to me”? 

But something – someone – had happened to him and now he felt the worn out threads of himself being stitched back together. 

Letting out a shaky breath, John turned so he could lean back against the wall, his blue eyes opening. The bathroom was small and he was again surprised by his willingness to move in with Sherlock almost immediately. The flat was hardly big enough for two people and it was obvious (at least to him) that a proper couple would be better suited for the location. 

And yet here they were. 

The words “proper couple” rolled around in his head, tasting them on his tongue and sinking in. Sherlock Holmes was almost a stranger to him, a person of great intellect as well as great intrigue, and great danger too…

A shiver ran down his spine and John felt himself tremble. It was thrilling to be around Sherlock, almost intoxicating if he were to be honest with himself. He was not someone who allowed himself to get swept away by anything or anyone, but somehow he had managed to have himself swept into Sherlock’s storm. And he was okay with that. 

He remembered how they had sat together for dinner that first night, John eating, Sherlock watching out the window. John could see Sherlock’s profile in his mind, the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the straight of his jaw, and the piercing eyes of a man who didn’t just look at him, but _saw_ him. 

_“You don’t have a girlfriend, then?”_

John groaned at the memory. 

_“No, not really my area.”_

_“Oh, right. D’you have a boyfriend?”_

_Sherlock’s eyes traced his face._

_“Which is fine, by the way,” he added._

_“I know it’s fine.” Sherlock clipped quickly._

John pressed his wet palms into his eyes and felt heat rise to his cheeks. He had been so obvious and he hadn’t even meant to. 

No girlfriend.

No boyfriend. 

Flattered, but married to his work. 

_”It’s all fine.”_

Turning the water off, John stepped from the shower and ran a towel over his body. He felt the bullet hole scar on his shoulder and ran a hand down his leg. He didn’t feel as wounded as he had before.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, John saw someone else, someone unfamiliar. The worry lines were softer and his eyes brighter and his face flushed with life. It was clear to see that his brokenness didn’t seem so broken anymore and there was a whisper of hope in the back of his mind. 

Sherlock Holmes did this. Somehow this man, a person that John didn’t really understand, had come into his life and remedied his pain. All of the things he wanted, but repressed, were coming to the surface and he wondered if maybe he was on the cusp of a life worth living. Maybe even happiness? 

But Sherlock was married to his work, unattached, like John. 

Or maybe, not so much like John after all.


	2. Turning Tables (TBB)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one day...

I can't keep up with your turning tables  
Under your thumb, I can't breathe

So I won't let you close enough to hurt me  
No, I won't ask you, you to just desert me  
I can't give you, what you think you gave me  
It's time to say goodbye to turning tables  
To turning tables  
\- Adele 

It was ridiculous really, all of it. John knew that getting a position at the clinic was less about the need for money and more about distancing himself from Sherlock. It just so happened that they were in need of rent money and the more time John spent at 221B he felt himself being pulled further into Sherlock’s atmosphere. 

Hours were spent by the fireplace, John reading a book or trying desperately to concentrate on anything other than the man sitting across from him. Sherlock on the other hand seemed completely immersed in his own world, oblivious to John. How could they orbit around each other and yet be so far apart? 

More importantly, why did it matter so much? 

Sarah from the clinic was nice enough and just the right kind of bland to soften the constant state of hysteria and thrill that followed Sherlock. John was vaguely aware of his desperation to extract himself from Sherlock’s calculating eyes and tried to remind himself that despite his claims, Sherlock was indeed human. 

“I need to get some air. We’re going out tonight.” 

John looked at Sherlock, his stomach knotting. Was this just for the case or was this something more? 

“Actually, I’ve got a date.” 

“What?” 

A flash of hurt and surprise passed Sherlock’s face, but was quickly replaced with the now familiar impartiality that John hated.

“It’s where two people who like each other go out and have fun,” John said slowly.

“That’s what I was suggesting,” Sherlock responded, an edge of disappointment in his voice. 

John’s face flushed and his thoughts stuttered. Was this Sherlock asking him on a date? Was this the in that John needed? He looked hard at Sherlock, trying to determine his motives, afraid to say anything for fear that he was misreading the situation. 

“No, it wasn’t…at least I hope not.” 

As soon as he said the words he wished he could snatch them back up and swallow them down. 

The moment was broken and Sherlock began talking again, but John wasn’t listening, a small lump forming in his throat. Would it always be this way? Mixed messages and confusion? What did Sherlock feel? 

Did Sherlock feel at all? 

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ 

Sherlock sat across from John as they shared breakfast. He knew that Sherlock was disappointed he hadn’t caught the ring leader of the Chinese smugglers, but John was content knowing everyone had made it out alive. 

He pressed Sherlock to talk about his disappointment, but he wouldn’t expand on it. Instead, they ate in companionable silence. John looked at him and thought of all the things he wanted to say, but couldn’t, and it made him angry. Why couldn’t this be simple? 

“John…” 

Sherlock had turned his blue eyes to John’s and there was a fire there. John felt himself suck in a deep breath, the intensity of Sherlock’s gaze rendering him immobile. He could feel himself coming undone from the inside out. 

“Yes?” 

John’s voice was huskier then he intended and he tried to clear his throat. He considered his options and wondered what Sherlock would do if he lunged at him now. Would he kiss him back? 

Desperately, he tried to push away that thought, but heat was rising up his neck and onto his cheeks. Everything about Sherlock was confusing, but in these rare moments the confusion seemed to clear like parting clouds and the brilliance of Sherlock’s humanity broke through, warming every part of John. 

“Can we go out tonight?” 

Sherlock’s words were quiet and soft, as though timidly dipping his toes in John’s ocean. Excitement seized John’s heart and his chest tightened pleasantly. He wanted to say yes, but his voice disappeared and instead he nodded. It felt like all the breath had been sucked from his lungs, like Sherlock’s eyes had pulled the breath from him. 

“But not a date…?” 

There was question at the end of Sherlock’s words and the moment came to a head. John knew he was asking because of the comments John had made before, but this was a chance at redemption. All he had to do was say it could be a date, that he wanted it to be a date.

But something’s just aren’t meant to be. 

Sherlock’s phone buzzed and the moment was broken. Grabbing it from his pocket, Sherlock read the text, his brows pulling together. 

“Jeffery needs us for a case.” 

“Who?” 

“Lestrade?” Sherlock answered as though it was obvious.

“You mean Greg?” 

“Yes, yes,” Sherlock said dismissively with a wave of his hand. “We should go now.” 

Standing abruptly, Sherlock adjusted his jacket and began stepping towards the door. Stopping he looked back expectantly at John and his face softened for a moment. 

“Rain check?” 

John hesitated for a moment at his question, his disappointment so evident that he was sure there was no way that Sherlock could miss it. Clearing his throat, pushing words past the lump forming there, he nodded and stood, clenching his fists. 

“Of course.” 

_High functioning sociopath_

John followed behind Sherlock, two steps at a time to keep up with his long strides, but suddenly desperate again for that distance. He couldn’t let this happen, he couldn’t let Sherlock close enough to hurt him. 

But even that thought was a lie. He was already pulled into Sherlock’s gravity. 

_Not a date._


	3. One and Only (TGG)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always looking for some feedback!

I dare you to let me be your, your one and only  
I promise I'm worthy  
To hold in your arms  
So come on and give me the chance  
To prove I am the one who can walk that mile  
Until the end starts

I know it ain't easy giving up your heart  
Nobody's perfect  
Trust me I've learned it  
\- Adele 

It was quiet in the back of the cab as Sherlock and John wove their way through the darkened London streets. They were leaving behind the pool and the looming threat of Jim Moriarty. John could still feel the weight of the explosives hanging from his tired frame. He had been so sure he was going to die. 

But then Sherlock was there and suddenly knowing they would die together was gentler then the bitterness of dying alone. Tuning his face to Sherlock, he tried to swallow down the emotions threatening to come pouring out. 

_”D’you know what happens if you don’t leave me alone Sherlock, to you?” Moriarty had said steadily as he stood in front of Sherlock’s loaded gun._

_“Oh let me guess, I get killed.” Sherlock responded in his bored drawl. John looked at him with wide, panicked eyes._

_“Kill you?” Moriarty said surprised. “No, don’t be obvious. I mean, I’m gonna kill you anyway someday. I don’t wanna rush it though. I’m saving it up for something special. No-no-no-no-no. If you don’t stop prying, I’ll _burn_ you.”_

_The taunting voice turned into a vile growl and John began to tremble violently._

_“I’ll burn the heart out of you.” Moriarty added, Sherlock’s face twitching just barely._

_“I have been reliably informed that I don’t have one.”_

_John’s eyes snapped to Sherlock’s and he knew he was giving him a pleading look. Why did that hurt so much to hear?_

_Moriarty smiled viciously._

_“But we know that’s not quite true.”_

_Sherlock blinked and for a fraction of a second his eyes shifted to John._

The cab pulled up to the darkened sidewalk in front of 221B and they slipped out quietly. John’s body was heavy with exhaustion and the night’s anxiety was threatening to pull him down to his knees. 

_I’ll burn you_

Shaking his head, John ran a hand across the back of his neck and followed Sherlock up the stairs and into the living room. Immediately shedding his coat, Sherlock collapsed uncharacteristically into his chair. John leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen watching Sherlock quietly. 

The detective’s long limbs were draped lazily and his ruffled hair looked even more unruly. There was a deep crease of worry on his forehead and his eyes looked down to his hands. John wanted to go to him, to kneel at his feet and pull him tightly into his arms. 

But he didn’t move. 

“Sherlock, look at me.” 

With a heaviness John hadn’t seen before, Sherlock raised his head and locked eyes with him. Words failed him for a moment and his mouth went dry at the openness on Sherlock’s face. If there was ever a time to have an honest conversation this was it. Taking a step forward, John’s heart settled his mind before he could persuade himself back into silence, but in one fluid movement Sherlock was standing inches from him, his eyes piercing. 

“We can’t do this, John.” 

“Do what?” John asked weakly, looking up at the man he loved most in the world. 

Sherlock didn’t say anything for a long moment, his eyes gliding over John’s face, coming to rest on his lips. The intensity of the moment was almost unbearable for John and he held his breath as he waited for Sherlock to be ready. Waited for him to give him the chance to walk with him down the miles until the very end. 

With a tenderness John didn’t know Sherlock was capable of he reached his hand up and grabbed the back of John’s neck. Pulling gently, forcing John to look up at him, Sherlock bent his head and lowered his lips to John’s. 

It was exactly like John had imagined it would be; worlds colliding, stars exploding, everything turning on its axis and righting itself for the first time. It was every cliché he could think of; lips made for each other, kisses with the perfect amount of love and longing, a cinematic moment for just them. 

And then Sherlock pulled back abruptly and took a long step back. 

“John, we can’t do this.” 

He tried to nod, to pretend like he hadn’t just experienced the best kiss of his life, but he knew that he wasn’t succeeding in hiding his feelings. 

“It’s not that I don’t care for you,” Sherlock tried, putting even more distance between them. “It’s just that I can’t commit to a relationship right now. I don’t have the time for anything other than work and it would only lead to disappointment in the end. My one and only focus is my work and anything else is just unnecessary. I’m sorry.” 

John was nodding more aggressively and clenching his fists at his sides. He knew if he tried to speak to he would fall apart all over the floor and that just wasn’t an option. 

“We are just keyed up from the events at the pool. Tomorrow we will be back to normal and we’ll just have a proper laugh over this.” 

Sherlock’s voice was unconvincing, but then John remembered that Sherlock himself had said he didn’t have a heart just a few hours ago. 

Without words, John gave a curt nod and turned to make his way up to his room. As soon as the door closed, he sank to his knees, biting the inside of his cheek to stem the flow of tears. 

But nothing worked and he gave in to his weakness. Gave into Sherlock. 

This is how things had to be and he would have to find a way to be okay with that. There was no other option because leaving Sherlock wasn’t an option, his friendship was far too important to be lost over a foolish kiss. 

As the night broke into the gray of a London morning, John rested his cheek on the cool floor, his tears slowing until they stopped altogether. By the time his alarm clock went off he had resigned himself to a life of friendship with Sherlock, all romantic entanglements reserved for other people. If he couldn’t have Sherlock, then he would make do with what he could. 

“John?” 

Sherlock’s voice came through the door, startling John. 

“Yes?” 

“Breakfast?” 

His voice was muffled and John knew he probably hadn’t slept either, but for different reasons, his brilliant mind never ceasing. Standing with shaky knees, John straightened his jumper and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Yes, I’ll be right down,” he answered, listening to Sherlock hover for a moment and then walk away. 

_Burn the heart out of you ___


	4. Love in the Dark (ASiB)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How am I doing?

I can't love you in the dark  
It feels like we're oceans apart  
There is so much space between us  
Maybe we're already defeated

We're not the only ones  
I don't regret a thing  
Every word I've said  
You know I'll always mean  
It is the world to me  
That you are in my life  
But I want to live  
And not just survive  
\- Adele 

The knocking was growing softer and softer, determination escaping with each breath. No matter how many times John’s knuckles brushed against Sherlock’s bedroom door the locked remained tightly latched. 

“Please, Sherlock. What do I have to do?” 

John could hear the desperation in his voice, but he continued on, pushing his words through the door, reaching out for Sherlock to grab hold of. 

“I know what you heard and I want to talk about it. I want to explain.” 

The stillness on the other side of the door was more deafening then the silence. For all John knew Sherlock could have made some kind of grand escape, slipping unnoticed down the streets of London, leaving John to plead with an empty room. 

Placing both hands on either side of the door, John let his head hang. He listened to the sound of his breathing, felt his muscles tightening, his hands trembling with the temptation to clench into angry fists. He was so damn tired and it felt like things were falling apart. 

Giving in to his tired limbs, John slid to the floor, leaning his back against Sherlock’s door. He flexed his fingers in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension, but it persisted. He felt the winter chill creeping through the floorboards and up his spine. 

_”Are you jealous?”_

He could have told the truth. He could have said that it he was seething with envy, body filling with uncontrollable rage. He could have told The Woman to go to hell and leave Sherlock alone – leave him for John. 

But he didn’t. 

Instead, he swallowed the truth because that’s what Sherlock wanted. 

_”We’re not a couple.”_

_It sounded as unconvincing as it was._

_“Yes you are.”_

_John rolled his head to the side and continued to push down the truth further and further, letting it sit somewhere in the pit of his stomach._

_“Who the hell knows about Sherlock Holmes, but – for the record – if anyone still cares, I’m not actually gay.”_

_Irene looked right through him._

_“Well, I am. Look at us both.”_

_And words dissolved on his tongue as he felt the weight of her words push against him. Was he so transparent?_

“Sherlock, please open the door.” 

It felt like hours had passed since Sherlock had put down his violin and disappeared into his bedroom. The silence between them was intolerable and John felt like he was going to deteriorate if he didn’t just say the truth. 

“What do I have to do? Do I have to say it out loud? Are you going to make me get on my knees and beg, Sherlock? Why does it always have to be your way?” 

His voice was gravelly and he knew he was growing quieter and quieter, his words getting lost between his lips and Sherlock’s ears. 

“Maybe there’s no hope for us?” 

John said this in a whisper, but he heard the creak of Sherlock’s bed. 

“We’re so damn far apart, Sherlock. Somehow we live in this flat together, share a life, and yet keep each other at arm’s length. How much more pretending do I have to do? For the love of God, Sherlock, tell me how many damn girlfriends and lies I have to have before enough is enough?” 

There was only silence again and no matter how hard John strained his ears he couldn’t detect anything on the other side of the door. 

Shoving his palms into his eyes, he tried to capture his tears there, forcing them to stay put before they had the chance to slip out. 

“Okay, fine. I’ve said what I needed to say.” John said with a loud, shaky sigh. Standing up, he turned and started to walk away, but then turned on his heel and went back to the door. With a loud bang his fist collided with the frame. 

“I meant everything I said, Sherlock. Every fucking word and all the ones I didn’t say too. I’m not leaving because you and this weird life we have together is my world, but someday we’re gonna have to try living instead of just surviving.” 

The whisper of breathing reached John and he stared at the door, willing it to open. 

It stayed shut. 

“And I’ll be here when you’re ready.” 

Giving Sherlock one last chance to open the door, John hesitated. After a long moment, he turned and kept walking all the way to his room. Closing the door, he fell into his bed, grabbing the blankets and wrapping himself up as tightly as he could, trying to hold himself together. 

57 messages. 

But she said he never answered. 

Did she mean she was in love with Sherlock as much as John Watson was? 

_“We’re not a couple.”_

It was a lie.

How could there be room for anyone else when every part of John was consumed by Sherlock Holmes? 

There wasn’t any. 

_Yes you are._

_Yes you are._

_Yes you are._

Yes we are.


	5. I Miss You (THB)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In light of what happened yesterday I felt it was even more relevant and important to post Johnlock content. I'm heartbroken by TFP, but I have a glimmer of hope that there will be some kind of resolution and things will be mended. 
> 
> Feedback please. 
> 
> Keep your head up!

I want every single piece of you  
I want your heaven and your ocean's too  
Treat me soft but touch me cool  
I wanna teach you things you never knew, baby  
Bring the floor up to my knees  
Let me fall into your gravity  
And kiss me back to life to see  
Your body standing over me

I love the way your body moves  
Towards me from across the room  
Brushing past my every groove  
No one has me like you do  
In your heart I bring my soul  
But be delicate with my ego  
I wanna step into your great unknown  
With you and me setting the tone  
\- Adele 

John Watson was on fire. Every part of him was burning up from the inside out and he couldn’t contain the flame. He felt as though his blood was on the verge of boiling and everything was about to spill out. 

Who the hell did Sherlock Holmes think he was? 

John clenched his fist and brought it to his mouth, biting into the flesh of his finger, stopping himself from throwing a punch at the innocent inn wall. Instead, he pivoted on his feet and slammed his hand into the unsuspecting pillows. Sherlock was the only person who could make John feel so completely out of control. 

And all he had to do was say that he didn’t have friends – that John Watson wasn’t even his friend. 

Let alone his companion. 

Partner.

Lover. 

And there was his apology, which was all good and fine, but over far too quickly. John didn’t know what he was expecting, but he wanted more. So much more. 

_”Listen, what I said before, John. I meant it.”_

_John looked at him with disgust._

_“I don’t have friends.”_

_John felt the flicker of his rage in the inside of his chest and he almost contemplated on connecting his hand with Sherlock’s pretty face._

_“I’ve just got one.”_

He had turned and continued walking, trying to show Sherlock that he wouldn’t forgive his so easily, but he knew with each step that he had forgiven him instantly. Within the breath of a moment they were reconnected on the case and John could feel the relief of resolution to their spat, but he also felt a hollowness settling. 

It was becoming clearer with each passing day that being friends with Sherlock wasn’t going to sustain John forever. He wanted every part of Sherlock, his heaven and his ocean, and everything in between. 

And then Sherlock locked him in that fucking lab. 

Rage again replaced his forgiveness and he let Sherlock know how upset he was as soon as they returned to the inn. With the coldest of looks, John let his upset run down Sherlock’s spine until he knew just how unforgiving he was going to be. 

Before the door to the room could close John was on the cusp of screaming from the top of his lungs. How could Sherlock be everything John wanted as well as everything he hated? It didn’t make sense, none of it. Everything about Sherlock should repel John, but it was like a drug and he was falling further and further into his gravity. 

Dear God, he wanted so much _more_ with Sherlock. 

It was as he was pacing an angry hole in the floor that the door flung open and Sherlock stepped in. John propelled daggers at him, but stopped mid-step as he took in Sherlock’s expression. His friend’s eyes were wide and his face was flushed as though he had been running. John could see the heavy rise and fall of his chest, his breathing erratic on the verge of frantic. 

Instantly Sherlock was forgiven.

“Sherlock, what’s happened?” John asked in a rush, his voice panicked. He stepped closer to Sherlock, reaching his hand out as though to touch the man to ensure he was okay. 

“I’m an arse, you know I am.” Sherlock said hurriedly, his long arm nudging the door closed as he continued to look at John with his endless eyes. 

“Yes, I know you’re an arse,” John nodded, concern etched on his face. “That doesn’t explain why you’re so shaken though.” 

“But you stay anyway,” Sherlock continued, completely ignoring John’s questioning look. 

“Obviously,” John said without bitterness, his confusion deepening further. 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” John asked, this time throwing his hands up in exasperation. It was beginning to dawn on him that Sherlock was not in fact injured or upset. Instead, he was just behaving as dramatic as usual. 

“Why did you pick me?” 

The words came from Sherlock’s mouth and rested firmly against John’s lips, taking him completely by surprise. It was an intimate question, not for friends, but for two people committed to each other. He could feel his face flush and his lips part as he thought quickly of the right thing to say, but Sherlock didn’t give him a chance.

In two long strides, Sherlock crossed the distance between them and grabbed John by the neck. It wasn’t painful, but it was enough pressure to surprise him. In one swift movement, Sherlock shoved him roughly against the wall, pressing the entire length of his body into every groove of John’s body. 

A groan escaped from John as Sherlock grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them above his head, effectively trapping John under the wall that was Sherlock. 

“Say it, John.” Sherlock whispered against John’s lips, his breath warm and tantalizing. They were so close and all he had to do was crane his neck just enough to connect them, but Sherlock moved his head back. 

“Say what?” John whimpered, his hips pushed against Sherlock’s. He hated that his body betrayed him, but he couldn’t risk the chance that this was the closest they would ever be. 

“Tell me why you picked me,” Sherlock teased, his nose nudging John’s jaw, making the older man roll his head to the side to give the detective better access to his neck. “Tell me why you stay, John.” 

John Watson was still on fire, but it was an entirely different kind of fire. 

“Please,” he moaned. “Don’t make me say it.” 

“Say it,” Sherlock pushed, his hips flexing forward revealing his erection to John. 

They both groaned at the contact and instinctively tried to get closer by rolling their hips together. 

“I-I-I,” John started, but Sherlock had latched his mouth to John’s neck and he couldn’t form any more words. 

“Tell me you want me, John.” Sherlock whispered as he nipped at John’s earlobe. 

“I want you,” John said desperately, his erection aching against the zipper of his pants. Sherlock moved his long leg in between John’s legs and was adding just enough pressure to make John’s eyes roll into the back of his head. 

“Tell me you forgive me.” 

“Sherlock, please, I-I,” John moaned, his fists clenching and restraining against Sherlock’s locked hands. His senses were being overwhelmed by everything Sherlock and felt as though he might cum from Sherlock’s baritone voice rumbling against his fevered skin. 

“Say it, John.” Sherlock warned, his head pulling back just enough to be out of John’s reach. He looked up at the taller man and into his scorching gaze, the same one that he saw when he closed his eyes and when he slept at night. It was the same pair of eyes that drove him crazy when he was alone and his body couldn’t handle anymore tension. When he needed release and it was only Sherlock who could satisfy him. 

“I forgive you.” 

As soon as the words left his tongue, Sherlock groaned with satisfaction and gave another rough push of his body against John’s before falling to his knees. 

Overwhelmed and painfully aroused, John looked down dazed as Sherlock began making quick work of his belt and the buttons of his pants. It wasn’t until Sherlock gave a tug and John’s erection sprang free that he realized what was about to happen. 

“Oh, god.” John breathed as he looked down at the beautiful man kneeling in front of him. 

“Tell me you want me again, John.” Sherlock said, his breath hot on John’s erection. 

“I want you.” 

“Again.” 

“I want you.” 

“Keep going.” Sherlock demanded as his lips parted and he took John into his mouth. 

“Oh, my god,” John moaned, his hands instantly going to Sherlock’s head, his fingers tightening in his dark hair. He tried to remember if all blowjobs felt this way, but thoughts were escaping faster than they were forming. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that nothing had ever felt this good.

“Say it again or I’ll stop.” 

A deep groan came pouring from John’s throat as Sherlock pulled off his cock, but he practically shouted when Sherlock swallowed him again. His mouth was hot and wet and John knew he wasn’t going to last long. 

“I want you. I want you. I want you.” 

He was chanting it like a mantra, praying to an entirely different kind of god and he felt blinded by sheer pleasure. It wasn’t so much the fact that he was getting a blowjob, but that he was getting a blowjob from Sherlock Holmes. The man who could slice you with his words and poison you with his venomous tongue, was on his knees finally utilizing that perfect mouth for something other than spouting his brilliance. 

John had never felt more powerful. 

“I want you, oh my god, I want you.” John continued as his fingers tightened impossibly more in Sherlock’s hair. The tug pulled a moan from Sherlock, the vibrations sending shockwaves through John. 

“I need you, Sherlock. I fucking need you. I have always needed you, from the first day, I needed you.” 

John knew he wasn’t thinking, his brain and mouth disconnected, allowing it all to come out. Another moan escaped Sherlock and John looked down enough to see that Sherlock had his own erection in his hand, stroking it quickly, flexing into his hand. 

“Yes, yes, yes. Cum for me, Sherlock.” 

As soon as John said this he felt his own climax begin to rise and briefly wondered if he should warn Sherlock. 

“I’m going to cum.” 

He ground out the words and tugged at Sherlock’s head to get him to pull off, but the younger man stayed put, his mouth latched tightly. Realizing John was close, Sherlock began pulling at his cock even faster, trying to match John’s small thrusts with his own flexing hips. His mouth tightened a fraction more, his tongue sweeping along the hard skin and John was letting go faster and harder then he could ever remember. 

“Sherlock!” 

John pumped into Sherlock’s mouth, the detective swallowing everything that John gave him, his own orgasm ripping from him. 

For several long moments they stayed there, John sagging against the wall, Sherlock grabbing tightly to John’s thigh while his other hand tried to contain his mess. 

“What the hell?” John breathed, his laughter feeling warm in his chest, his entire body basking in the afterglow.

“That was,” Sherlock paused and looked down at his own hand. “Unexpected.” 

“You’re telling me you didn’t plan this?” John chuckled as he ran a hand through his hair the other still firmly twisted in Sherlock’s curls. 

“I suppose I knew it was a possibility, but I didn’t think I would actually want to and even more follow through with it.” 

Sherlock stood up walking awkwardly to the bathroom, unaware of the pained expression on John’s face. Sherlock’s words struck a chord deep inside John, his post climax high evaporating, leaving him cold. 

What was this? 

“I’m gonna have a shower,” Sherlock called from the bathroom. John nodded even though Sherlock couldn’t see him and pulled up his pants. 

His body was heavy and he felt sick to his stomach suddenly. Did it mean anything to Sherlock? John’s elbows rested on his knees as he held his head in his hands. The familiar burn of tears pricked at his eyes and he wanted to swear at himself for being so emotional. He heard the shower turn on and he realized that he needed to get away, put some distance between them. 

“I’m grabbing a drink from downstairs. Be back later.” 

He said this quickly unsure if Sherlock could even hear him and then left the room. 

_“Say it, John.”_

No, he wouldn’t say it, not anymore. 

_“Say it or I’ll stop.”_

Don't stop. 

He loathed that imaginary Sherlock was as persuasive as real Sherlock. 

_“I want you.”_

_“Again.”_

_“I want you.”_

_Again._

Tears spilled out hot and sudden and John wiped them away quickly. 

_I want you._

_I want you._

_I need you._

_I need you._

_I love you._

I love you.


End file.
